Now You Know
by Ezzaria26
Summary: Whenever you know, George Weasley, please tell me. I'm waiting for you to finally, knowingly fall for me.
1. If You Ever Know

**It's time for a George and Luna one-shot! Yay! I've entered Harry Potter fandom. Oh, and a quick question. I adore this couple, so clearly I look it up on this site. But half of its Fred and Luna! Do people find it cute that they pretend to get the twins mixed up, because I am not amused? Where's my adorable Luna and George fluff? I thought I had more than I did! I was fooled! A dirty trick of terribleness! Why? Fred and George are next to each other in the alphabet, but not on the list of characters! I know they didn't really mix them up! So what's the deal? I feel jipped! I look up George W. and Luna L. and get summaries that say 'FredLuna inside'. And then I think to myself 'Fred is not spelled G-E-O-R-G-E. So why did you select George for your second main character of the story? I WANT MY LORGE GENA FLUFF!' End of story. And yeah, I don't know what the name for George and Luna love is, so… yup.**

**Okay, I'm done complaining. I mean no offense, I'm just sad I couldn't read more amazingness with Luna and George being in love and all that good stuff.**

**Disclaimer- Don't own Harry Potter. You have no idea how many things I would change if I did.**

I'm not quite sure when I fell for you. Actually, that's not right. I can remember the moment I fell for you down to the very second. I know it was the best thing that could've ever happened to me. I left a DA meeting early, as the sky at dinner time had been filled with dark gray clouds. Mom always said I had a sixth sense for when it was going to rain, and that sixth sense was going off right then. Rain was coming. During the meeting, the accuracy of my rain sense was proven as I heard the pounding of the droplets of water against the strong stone walls of the Hogwarts castle. Where no one else seemed to notice, either from the thick walls of the Room of Requirement, the shouts of '_Incendio_' as we practiced controlling fire, or because wrackspurts had made their way into everyone's brains, I heard even the subtle sliding as the water slid off the roof. The thunder was magnified to my ears, and my bare feet itched. My instinct told me I had to get out to that rain, and so I slid away from the crowd. Who would notice me anyway? Many in the DA still disliked my membership, and thought I was loony. I couldn't care less, and floated away without making a sound. Let them think what they desired. I wasn't going to sacrifice my fun for their opinions.

As I was leaving I felt the presence of a trouble maker. I couldn't determine which twin it was just from the feeling I got, but I knew it was either Fred or you. You were coming to the meeting late because of a new prank you wanted to try out. That I knew, as well.

But why you chose to follow me as I made my way to the doors that would lead me to the open courtyard, well that was unclear to me. As a Ravenclaw, I decided to take my time observing before I hypothesized the reasoning behind your behavior.

You really aren't as sneaky as you would like to think you are, George. No wonder Mrs. Norris can find you. Though perhaps in your… youth (not to say your old), you were better. It must be the widnelroos. They're known to mess with a person's balance. They feed off clumsiness and foolishness and embarrassment. Causing accidents is a widnelroo's specialty, and I'm sorry you had to suffer the consequences as you attempted to outsmart a cat you used to fool so easily.

I had entered the courtyard, the rain's harsh pounding creating this uneven and amazingly catch rhythm. I inhaled as I strode forward, toes curling happily as they met the growing puddles. And with that last bit of physical contact, I allowed myself to be captured by the rain. Arms in the air, head thrown back, feet sliding purposefully along the cobblestones. I began a dance that was always changing. It was the same dance essentially, the dance of the storm and the downpour, but it always was growing and becoming more elaborate. Lightning raced across the sky, striking the ground not so far away from the castle, creating a loud and deafening thunder that covered the land. I felt everything around me, yet nothing at all. I was not cold, nor was I uncomfortable in my soaked clothes. But my skin still sensed each individual rain drop. My ears heard each one fall, each crack of lightning as the thunder accompanied it, each footstep that sent up a wave of water. I felt at peace, yet fully alive in a wild and untamed world.

And I felt your eyes on me. As the loudest thunder and brightest lightning took over the world around me I froze, arms straight above my head which was tucked close to my chest, feet spread a shoulder-width apart.

The rain continued, and softer thunder caressed the emerald grass and cool stone pathways, and I knew there was still time for one more dance before going back to the DA to continue my lesson. I didn't care how clumsy the widnelroos would make you, I wanted a dance partner. So, I looked to the archway where I knew you were standing. Your eyes were wide with surprise, mouth slightly open in awe, though you're the first to find such a display impressive, as not even my daddy has seen me perform. You supported yourself against the column of the archway, seemingly blown away, and I felt a fluttering sensation in my stomach, shivers crawling up my spine and a smile impossible to stop forming on my lips. I offered a small wave with my left hand, and you blushed, sliding down the column in shock at the fact that I had realized your presence, before attempting to catch yourself and sliding a couple more times before finally succeeding in pushing away and standing up straight. You gave a bashful wave in return, though you looked a bit worried at what I would do.

I knew who you were.

"George Weasley," I called out to you.

Your gaze had slowly been falling towards the ground at that point, but the fact that I had correctly called your name got your attention. Your head snapped up, and you rubbed your neck awkwardly at the pain from the sudden movement. Well, so it appeared that the smooth, flirtatious and witty George Weasley had lost his cool. The widnelroos must've been enjoying a feast at that very moment. Still, you couldn't keep the shock from your eyes. How had I known? The question was in your eyes, and the curiosity along with it. I had seen you on more than one occasion awkwardly refuse Angelina, as she had mistaken you for Fred. If Fred's own girlfriend couldn't get you guys right, how could I? It's not that hard. People just aren't looking in the right places for the differences. They're looking incorrectly, just as they do when they attempt to interpret my talk of nargles and wrackspurts.

Your blushing face that defeated even your fiery red hair made my heart beat a little faster, and I caught on to what was happening before you did. You're pretty observant yourself, like I am, but not when it comes to deep feelings. No, I think that'll take you a while. "It's not as lonely as you think," I informed you. I knew why you seemed so hesitant to come out and say hello. I stood alone and by myself, and you had never done that. You were always with your brother, or with your friends, or with your large family. But at my words you seemed curious, becoming your normal self. "Dance with me?" I held out a small, pale hand, a hopeful smile on my face.

You didn't hesitate anymore. Those three words of mine seemed to lure you out into the rain, seeping into your clothes. But you were not bothered. You took my hand, and we began a dance.

When your hand made contact with mine is when I knew I had fallen for you. And it was then that I had decided I'd observed enough, and was confident that you had fallen for me too. Had Alicia or Katie or Angelina been dancing in the rain, you would've playfully refused. But you didn't refuse me. You weren't afraid of being alone anymore, because you knew that out in the rain, even if it was with me, a seemingly total stranger, there was a chance you wouldn't be. Because you trusted me. I don't know if it was because you had already fallen like me, and it was merely instinct, or if there was another reason. But I plan to find out.

Dancing with you, twirling and watching as you found your footing and became less clumsy, was the best part about school, all seven years. What my last three years of school would be like was unsure, but that moment… it was impossible to beat. Trust me on that. When the final lightning struck the ground and the thunder roared for the last time, you held me close in an abrupt motion of pulling me towards your chest, and I looked up to see your blushing face. A couple minutes passed by, and you finally pulled away, realizing what you had done. I laughed at your expression, knowing you didn't truly know yet, and you laughed nervously in return. "We should head back, Loony_ Luna," you decided. I was happy you had thought that perhaps it would hurt my feelings to be called Loony, and so had called me Luna directly after, but your tone was different. You didn't have to bother, because you didn't call me Loony as if it was a bad thing. And that's the only thing that made the nickname the least bit bothersome in the first place. People said 'Loony' as if it was a word of damnation.

But not you. Your blush faded, and you became your confident self once more as you waved goodbye and smiled, walking away. You underwent a transformation, becoming the bright and witty twin you've always been. But I knew you were scared inside just as much as you were happy, scared of being left alone or being truly scorned and hated. You weren't one or the other, and so you really didn't know what to do with yourself. How long would it last?

That day had been meant for dancing in the rain. And yet, I couldn't have been happier when the ground vanished from beneath my bare feet, and instead of just dancing, I was falling.

It didn't stop there, you know. I fell deeper and gained velocity with each day I ever chanced upon you. Whether it be you tormenting Umbridge or selling some of your new and amusing products, I found more reasons to fall harder for you. Secretly, you found more reasons to love me too. Not because I'm so confident in my own personality, but because my eyes saw things that couldn't just be coincidence. You did things that couldn't just have been because you were bored. But the thing is George, you still had no idea why any of it was. They didn't seem like big things to everyone else, but to you and to me, they were. Reaching for a book on a shelf at the library I just couldn't get at my shorter height, picking up leftover corks from bottles of pumpkin juice after a feast so I could ward off the nargles, burning the evidence of any canary cream wrappers so Filch wouldn't suspect you... So many people thought nothing of it. But they were little rituals that made it harder to resist, as if I could ever do that in the first place.

When I found out you and Fred were going to get yourselves expelled with a bang, I wasn't disgusted or angry or surprised. On the contrary, I was proud that you had discovered what you should've done from the very beginning. As if the academic world was ever truly a place for the Weasley twins. You were ecstatic, but you still seemed a little scared just like that first time in the rain. "Luna, can we hang out this Saturday at Hogsmeade?"

For a moment, my heart had skipped a couple beats, and I looked up at you curiously. "Why?" I had inquired.

You seemed a bit unsure as to why you asked, too. But you eventually came up with an explanation. "Well, we won't be seeing each other for a while, right? Since its still a while until school gets out... for you, anyway," you had pointed out with a smile.

I smiled, but it was a little sad. You still had no idea. "Sorry. I told Daddy I found some interesting things out about widnelroos and he wanted a draft for an article to put in the _Quibbler_," I said. It wasn't a lie, like an excuse to get away from you. I didn't want to refuse you or ever give you false information. I had been meaning to write to Daddy and send him the draft of my article (which wasn't written yet, actually), and Saturday was normally my free day, because normally people didn't want to hang out with me. I'd been planning on writing it Saturday, and with the way things were, I told you no. You didn't know why you felt the desire to be next to me, and if you didn't know then I couldn't go with you yet.

Your eyes spoke a silent question. Your facial expressions are the most expressive part about you when you're being serious, after all.

"When you know, tell me," I then answered. "I'll be at the opening of your shop, George Weasley." With that, I left, wondering if you would ever know.

**So, I'm making it a two-shot. Did you enjoy the first half? Review and tell me please! Flames will be put out by my lovely friend, the rain. Try not to be too harsh with any constructive criticism you may have.**

**Ezzy**


	2. Unknowingly Know

**So, I feel like such a horrible person, because I was writing a one-shot someone requested about Hikaru and Haruhi, and it was halfway done and I had told myself I wouldn't update this story until it was posted. I have a problem though. My laptop went evil, won't let me open any programs, and so I cannot access the updated version of the one-shot I was writing. So, I have to relocate the hard copy in my English notebook, type that up, remember what I had added, type that, and finish. But, there are alerts on this story, and I feel bad for leaving you guys hanging. So, at long last, here's the second chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I'm no JK Rowling. No Harry Potter for me.**

It didn't take me long to see you again, though not on the terms I wished to see you. Your store was a magical place full of fantasy, nonsense, laughter and joy. So much more was hidden underneath the mischievous yet innocent mask of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. I could look at the products you made and see the life of you and your twin play before my eyes; the life you've already experienced, and the life you surely could.

I know you noticed my entry on opening day of your shop. My eyes, taking in the rainbow and beyond amongst a plethora of sounds and questionable smells that bombarded my fellow senses, fell upon you just as your eyes found mine. But you are a popular businessman, Mr. Weasley, and your public awaited you. Besides, I've seen you before, and looking around the store meant seeing a part of you I never could just by looking at your physical figure.

I nearly stayed until closing time, left to wonder about all the delightful creations you had produced until I was escorted outside the shop for closing.

What had stopped me from doing just that was a very curious display box full of bottles that were pale yellow, much like my hair, with bright blue letters, much like my eyes, that read:

_Nargle Be Gone_

_What you must obtain, to save your brain!_

_More convenient than corks, and more efficiently works!_

A pleased giggle tumbled from my lips at the attempt at rhyming, though corks and works did not rhyme as you had probably convinced yourself they did. Rolling a bottle onceover in my pale hands, I took note of the rhyme and the product and its coloring. It was for me.

The crowd was still going strong, but I had managed to locate Fred, who must've been feeling rather mean to have left you to deal with the crowd. You couldn't even be your slightly-less-loud-and-outgoing self in your own store at the moment.

"Fred, or do you prefer Mr. Weasley?" I asked your tall look-alike.

He turned to me in shock at the fact that I had gotten his name correct, but he took it in stride, barely missing a beat. "Am I really getting old?" he asked in a friendly tone.

"Many seem to have the desire to obtain a title that could be seen as fit for an older person once they join the world of business. I would not instantly say it's your style, but unless you've been using this spray I've just located, its quite possible that your mind is being played with," I informed him.

"If I'm being played with, it's not by nargles. Funny product, that," Fred said, pointing to the bottle. "Not sure why George insisted on it so strongly. I'm not even sure it works or how we could possibly make a profit on it, but George said it'd come out of his individual income." Then Fred cleared his throat, realizing what he'd said. "I mean… It's a fabulous product, top quality amongst its kind, and I'd highly recommend it to anyone and everyone."

I smiled, having received the information I desired. So it had been meant for me. Somehow, that made what I was going to do a little more painful. You were so close and yet… you didn't know. It only lingered in the darkest depths of your mind. "I'll test it out for you. How much for a spray bottle?" I asked, deciding it would be the most convenient over the different forms it came in.

"You can have a whole set. No charge. It's the first day, and besides, any girl who can get my twin soaking wet without it being initially his idea is a-okay in my book." With that, Fred proceeded to give me a bag filled with Nargle Be Gone lip balm, lotion, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, spray bottle, deodorant, and even nail polish and tooth paste. As he passed me the bag, I found my blue eyes still staring at him. He stared right on back for a while, before bursting into a grin. "Georgie talks in his sleep, you see."

I rummaged through my new belongings curiously, only glancing up at him once during this confession. "So do you. You're just trying to cover it up by distracting me with information on George," I replied off-handedly, pulling out my wand and waving it slightly. The tip glowed blue, telling me there were indeed nargles in the building. I should've guessed as much. This was a joke shop, where brains were traditionally left outside to bake in the sun.

"So information on George distracts you? You interested in my beloved other half?" Fred asked, leaning against the shelves of products.

"I'm merely stating your assumption that you made in hopes that you could cover up your own habit."

"Sleep talking."

"Yes, I do believe that's what I'm speaking of," I said in turn, pulling out the Nargle Be Gone lip balm and covering my lips in a light coat of it. "It's one of the few things you have in common."

"The few? We are practically the same," Fred pointed out.

I chose to ignore this comment for the moment, as Fred and George knew better than to think they were the same simply because they fell under the category of twins. "So, you two sleep talk," I stated.

"Yup. Most of the time its nonsense when it comes to George, but after a DA meeting he came back soaking wet and refused to tell me anything useful except something about dancing and lightning fairies and crumple-horned snorkacks. Rubbish, I thought. Until he fell asleep and started saying that you were the most beautiful, unprofessional rain-dancer he had ever seen," Fred explained.

I fetched my wand from its new home behind my ear, flicking it as I responded. "You speak of Angelina in your sleep. The confident, lead Gryffindor chaser who's always with you two?"

Fred narrowed his eyes at me as I observed that the blue glow on my wand had only shrunk. It was not completely gone. There were still nargles to be found in the joke shop, though I was sure it was inevitable that there would always be a few roaming about within such an enchanting structure. Finally, Fred went back to his light-hearted mood. "Yup. Don't tell me you've become a stalker," Fred commented, flicking one of his own creations, the popular joke wand that became a snake in your hand the moment you tried to use it. Muttering '_Flago_' under his breath, the viper returned to its wooden state.

I tucked my wand back behind my ear and began to make my way to the front of the store. "No. I'm just making connections. Finding the things you and George do share," I informed him off-handedly.

"What does that mean?" Fred asked, now confused with what I'm sure he would've called 'Ravenclaw Logic'.

"She loves you, doesn't she Fred? And you love her?" I reached for the door before stopping and glancing over my shoulder. He still looked very confused. "You are as much in common with George as you are with me," I decided to add.

"How is that?"

"Thank you very much for the Nargle Be Gone. I'll test it out at home," I informed him.

"Should I tell George you said 'hi'?" Fred asked.

I began to open their front door, shaking my head as I did so. The products within my bag were evidence that I couldn't. "No thank you. I'll tell him when I see him next. Good day, Mr. Weasley." I paused, one foot out the door, the other still in. "You love your brother, don't you?" And with that, I left behind your mystical store and all of the delights within, including you.

But it was not the last time fate would act upon its humor and bring us together for brief meetings. You were there at King's Crossing, ruffling Ron and Ginny's hair when I showed up to board with your only sister.

Your family is a lovely gift to this world, George, in case you were wondering. I'm sure you question Percy and Ron and all the rest minus Fred, but they all have provided to me so much laughter and so many smiles. Though, I do believe if I were to choose I'd have to say I am most thankful to your parents, as they gave me the greatest gift in this entire world.

As Ginny and I walked to the train, she made a remark about how stupid Ron could be sometimes for not seeing how in love Hermionie was with him. "It must be a trait amongst the Weasley men," I replied, my eyes drifting to where you stood with Fred, jabbing at Ron one last time as he tried to drag Harry and Hermionie towards the Express.

Your sister's eyes lit up with understanding for she knew what few did, but she refused to acknowledge the sad situation you and I were in, and I'll be forever thankful to her for that. "You must've heard about how long it took Fred to realize Angelina liked him back," she said, subtly hinting at my current dilemma without actually saying anything about it.

"Not at all," I answered, adjusting my pink and blue, glittery glasses and glancing at the huddle of Weasleys, not missing the specks that flew around the heads of all the men. "Just that they all have an abnormally high count of Wrackspurts." Ginny laughed, though I'm sure she didn't believe my babble of creatures people thought to not exist. She believed a lot of things, but the more I get to know your family, George, the more I realize how - despite how scared you are sometimes - you are the one capable of believing, truly believing everything. I appreciate that. Mother often said it was one of my many good traits, though few view it the way she and I do.

The third time I saw you was at Dumbledore's funeral. It was the strangest day, for even Fred was quiet. I expected it of you though, for despite not being aware of your own feelings, you could read the common feeling of the Hogwarts students as we all gathered round to look upon the shell that once held a great soul, but had long since released it.

Circumstances set aside, I noticed your eyes occasionally scan the crowd, sometimes towards the Ravenclaw section, but otherwise near the trees. I knew who you were looking for, because you found her with your gaze, sitting barefooted while piecing together a wreath of wildflowers and eating every fifth berry she found.

I leapt down from my branch in a tree, taking my floral creation in hand and, with a simple spell, attaching it to a tree before sliding one finger into my mouth, drawing out the juice of the berry I had been chewing, and writing upon the bark.

It could be viewed as a selfish wish, but when Daddy told me about the Twisty-Tailed Belrids and how they blessed certain dedications to the dead, I knew it would be the most appropriate thing to do. Twisty-Tailed Belrids, after all, were nature creatures that mourned the loss of any living thing, and created magical berries near the resting place of a dead one so if someone wished to honor the dead one's passing on, they could. You took something natural like branches, or in my case wildflowers, and created a circle to represent something never ending. You would collect berries and plant them in the soil, but depending on how many years you knew the dead one, you would eat that berry. I knew Dumbledore five years, so every fifth berry I ate. When my wreath was done and the final berry collected, I ate it and used the juice to write a wish within the wreath that the Twisty-Tailed Belrids would bless and help come true if they felt the dead one truly would've liked the wish.

What wish had I written within the wreath?

_May all who have never known come to know what they have earned._

You could say it was a selfish wish, because you had yet to know what you had clearly earned in my eyes.

At that point I went to go speak with everyone else and make sure other dangerous creatures were not taking advantage of each person's somber feelings. But I glanced you leaving to investigate what I had left behind, and I saw you mouth the words I'd written.

I'm sure the Twisty-Tailed Belrids will bless the wish, for what more could Dumbledore have wanted than for all who've ever lived to earn what they must know for happiness, the thing everyone deserved.

Despite such circumstances we continued to meet under, George Weasley, it was still not right.

I met you once again as I was walking through Diagon Alley. I'm sure to many the place looked dreary. It was quite the classic example. Stores were closed, people were scarce, and the magical wonder that used to leap through the streets from the hooting owls to the overflowing cauldrons of rainbow smoke was blatantly missing. I remember wondering to myself if people realized what truly made Voldemort so powerful was the fact that people were so afraid of him they _allowed_ the joys in their life to die.

I was very disappointed in you when I chanced upon your store a second time. I knew you and your brother to be of a rare kind of person, two humans that, despite all the death and suspicion, would not let laughter and joy die. But that was not what your store told me.

It was beyond sad, what condition I found your store in at the beginning of the summer, just after Dumbledore's death. Shelves were partially stocked, signs were old with dust, and the lights were dimmed.

You and your brother were having a conversation when I glanced into the sad, empty window of your store.

Your brother was holding a colorful sign that screamed a rather clever phrase. You-Know-Poo. You both were concerned, but it seemed you were concerned about circumstances, but his eyes stated that he couldn't have cared less. It seemed he was concerned about _you_ as you held a poster advertising protective cloaks and hats.

Your brother whirled to point to the empty, depressing streets of Diagon Alley, but paused just before his index finger could direct your attention to me. Instead, Fred allowed his arm to fall before he tromped up the stairs, allowing the poster of his creation to fall to the floor.

You grumpily flicked your wand, allowing the paper to fly out the door, where it rested before my pale feet. I picked it up, noting the fact that you must not have noticed me. True to my observation, you were angrily shuffling through papers of expenses and sales records.

It's fortunate that I find you aggravated face to be not only amusing, but adorable. It didn't suit you at all. Alright George Weasley. I saw no Widnelroos. Perhaps I can perform a safe extraction of the Wrackspurts that surely surround you. Or the Nargles. Whichever happened to cause the most trouble.

I entered the lifeless shop, allowing my silvery-blue eyes to fall over everything. Some of the boxes were collecting dust. The only thing that seemed to be alive was the single Pygmy Puff, which was a pale green in color. It appeared lonely as it nibbled sadly on a star-shaped treat. Pygmy Puffs were social creatures, so social that their friendly natures rivaled that of a Yeckyin.

Perhaps it wasn't just the lack of other Pygmy Puffs that was dampening the furry creature's mood. Perhaps it sensed the immense overload of nargles that were filling the shop.

"_Luna_." What a voice that spoke my name, lacking any tone of ridicule or mockery. What a rarity such a voice was in my social plane of existence. Still, the voice could've called to me in all the cruel fashions of any other person at Hogwarts and still have sounded caring. Because it was never the name that suggested the inability to understand who I was. It was the intent. The way such a name came about.

I turned slowly to look at you, the bearer of such a voice. You seemed especially annoyed at the fact that I was so sluggish in my response.

"Are you deaf, Luna?" you asked, dragging the palms of your hands over your forehead and through your head of untamed, fiery hair.

"If you're suggesting I didn't hear the first four times you attempted to call me, you're wrong," I replied lightly, shifting the faded yellow, blue and lavender messenger bag I had on my shoulder.

You repeated your previous motion of frustration once more, mumbling 'obviously' under your breath with the corners of your lips ghosting the imitation of a smile.

My feet, cool against the neglected and colorful carpet, carried me over to the single shelf that was still fully stocked save the set I was given for free on the opening day of the shop. "Hi," I then greeted in a clear voice.

It did not matter the clarity, however. I still heard your flabbergasted gasp. No, a gasp suggests delicacy and shock. The sound that escaped your mouth suggested confusion, bemusement, and disbelief. It was very much undignified, extremely blunt, and not at all gentlemanly. Just the way it should be when it comes to a Weasley. But there was still that slightly withdrawn insecurity that was definitely and inexplicably you. "I told Fred I would say 'hi' to you myself when I was here last."

"Just how do you know that I'm_ Never mind. Speaking of last time, Loonyyuh… Oh bloody hell, uh…."

"Your mind has adjusted to Loony. You are surrounded by words, and if it's ever about me the words contain Loony. George, if it's more comfortable, don't hesitate to call me so."

You seemed to find the idea unacceptable. "No. It's a bad habit, and I_"

"So is pranking people."

"You know what I mean."

I allowed a faint smile to grow on my face. "Sure I do, George Weasley. But you're misunderstanding. Don't fall into step with everyone else. What makes your bad habits okay is your intent."

You also seemed to find this concept rather odd. "My intent?" you inquired, arching your eyebrows and leaning against the counter of the shop.

"Your pranks are for laughter. The name 'Loony' is to give me something for you to call me, not to hurt my feelings. That is what makes it okay," I explained simply, running my finger along the wooden, brightly colored shelf's edge.

You brought a hand to rub the back of your neck as you thought about this. "If you say so… But I don't want anyone misunderstanding."

"Why?"

Such a question always seemed to catch you off guard, and it deeply fascinated me, George Weasley. "It's not right."

"I wonder if you thought that before, and there's always the question as to why you do now." Your red-maned head fell in shame at those words. Arching my eyebrows, I pulled my sparkling glasses out of my pocket and slid them before my eyes. No Wrackspurts. It was likely nargles then. Taking my wand from its perch behind my ear, a simple wave that ended with a spark of blue told me what I had guessed. Knowing what must be done, I replaced my wand and then reached into my messenger bag and unveiled its contents to myself; all the Nargle Be Gone products you had designed. "George, what were you saying before? Last time?"

Your head shot up once more. You seemed confused, but then you realized that you _had_ indeed been about to say something when you accidentally called me 'Loony'. "Right. You didn't say anything to me on the opening day of my shop."

I pulled out the Nargle Be Gone spray and rolled the can between my hands. "That's because of our last discussion."

"What do you_"

"Do you know?"

"Do I know what?"

I smiled faintly, realizing the problem, and I tightened my right hand's grip on the Nargle Be Gone spray before approaching you, making a point to make the logo on the can visible. "I suppose you don't. Or perhaps that's not the right way to put it. You do know, George Weasley."

"Know _what_?"

"Or at least, that's what this bottle tells me," I continued, proceeding to walk forward until I was within a foot of you.

You furrowed your brow. "Luna…" You didn't mess up my name this time.

"The truth is, I believe you to know. But your brain won't acknowledge it. Just your conscious. Otherwise, you never would've made this for me," I pointed out, allowing a mist of the concoction to fall upon your head in hopes of ridding the nargles from you.

A dusting of pink spread across your face. "Who said… those were for you… Loony?" This time you messed up my name as I popped the invisible bubble that was your boundary.

"Exactly," I replied with a smile, stepping away from you.

I turned as if to leave the store, but paused with my fingers a few inches away from the door handle. "Were I anyone else, I would say the Weasley twins surely did not make this lonely, gloomy, defeated store. But since I am me, I will say that surely there must be something very wrong for the Weasley twins to allow their store to slip into such a state… unless you mean to tell me that you have fallen prey to Voldemort's reign of terror just like everyone else?"

With that, I gripped the door and pulled it open, allowing a soft breeze to enter as well.

"Wait! Luna!"

I glanced back, silvery-blue eyes meeting your suddenly determined ones. I arched a pale eyebrow. "Yes George?"

"No Weasley will ever fall prey to You-Know-Poo."

I felt a grin threatening the corners of my mouth. "Is that what was wrong with your shop, Mr. Weasley?"

"No… I don't think so," you finally said. "But whatever it is, I would like to make sure that it doesn't happen again. And seeing as you have very fine taste in your cleaning products there, miss Luna, I thought perhaps you could be of assistance."

I wondered if I should say yes, or perhaps if I should leave you hanging. But hurting both you and I would do us no good. "Why Mr. Weasley, I do believe I know just where to start." And with that, I unfurled the poster your brother had been holding.

**Oh, I am such a liar. I do believe this will have to continue. It's going to be a one-shot... two-shot... indefinite shot. Five-shot max, I promise. Then again, I don't think they really make those. I guess by then it's just considered a story? But I swear this will get done. It's George and Luna! I can't resist. I've had this typed up for a while, but I was trying to contain myself because I'm not done with a one-shot I promised a wonderful person months ago. I feel so terrible.**

**Ezzy**


End file.
